Biding     Time

She  cannot be found anyplace

Where I  is,

who means well

and is so eager to greet her.

Fearful of I,  She  hides, curled and still,

or sits, arm raised to shield herself             

from gestures whose intention she cannot decipher.

Bewildered, I  is unaware

that the force of her desire is a wall, not a welcome,

and needs a language barely suggested in dream.

I  feels accused, at fault, a victim,

that She, cowering in shadow,

seems excused, let off the hook,

unaware that for She

the strongest action is to wait

until I, empty of any demand, becomes quiet,

and hears the words She  has waited so long to speak.

 In a language barely suggested in dream